


Firestorm

by thornsilver



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, blonds have more fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 01:58:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16883469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornsilver/pseuds/thornsilver
Summary: It's a heatwave out there. What better time for sexual adventures?





	Firestorm

**Author's Note:**

> This story is happening in the future, when Wufei is over 18. Because I said so.
> 
> This fic was originally posted on LJ. A long time ago. I took me a while to remember *who* the characters were, people!

The weather was oppressively hot and humid, ridiculous for Brussels in the middle of May. Zech Marquise opened two more buttons on his white uniform shirt and leaned out of the opened office window, hoping to catch the non-existent breeze, his tunic and cravat already abandoned a couple of hours ago.

The base was quiet, the residential personnel probably doing their best to cool themselves down. The only movement he could see on the courtyard was... Chang Wufei was practicing his forms in the afternoon sun, looking disturbingly as if the gravitation was actually optional and currently non-operational due to an application of pure will.

He was wearing just his white pants and a black tank top, but he should still have been too uncomfortable to exercise in this heat. Yet, Chang did not look like the climate bothered him at all, and Zechs felt his face produce a rueful grin--the Pilots were not in the habit of not doing something merely because it was uncomfortable, or, indeed, impossible.

In the three months since the five Gundam pilots decided to join OZ and Romefeller, Zechs have came to respect their abilities even more than he did when they had been at odds. Treize was right to recruit them, whatever terms that golden-haired devil-child managed to get out of him. Zechs wondered often what the colonists were thinking when they decided to denounce the Gundams. To him, it seemed to be a mistake even larger than the one of building these mecha in the first place, or the one in entrusting them to five teenagers whose psychological state was questionable at best.

The Lightning Count looked at the desk with its pile of papers that absolutely necessitated a signature. Damn Treize for leaving him to deal with administration, anyway. There were a few other things he would have gladly done first, such as going against a Gundam in just a Leo, say. But Treize was off to L3, Une and Pilot Barton in tow, trying to take care of some issue that made him blush for the first time in Zech's memory, despite more than ten years of acquaintance.

Noin, who usually would have quickly and efficiently took care of administrative details in Une's absence or distraction, was chasing down a small army of rebels somewhere in Mongolia with the support of two Gundams and their pilots. Zechs wished he too have come up with somewhere else to be.

Instead he was stuck here, pretending to do a job he wasn't actually suited for. At least the scenery was... acceptable. The huge form of Shenelong, towering over the smaller MS's provided a nice backdrop to a whirling figure.

Zechs had been watching Chang's training routine for more then a week from this same window, and he had to admit that he understood Treize's interest in the boy now. Of course, Treize will most likely not get anywhere with him. Since people were throwing themselves into Kushrenada's bed all of his life, he didn’t bother mastering the finer points of those kinds of negotiations. And this Pilot was not likely to just show up in Treize's bed buck naked. In Zechs’ opinion anyway.

=============================================================================

With Zechs' movement within the ranks of OZ came certain privileges. This office, for instance, for all the use he did *not* want to put it to. Complete with an adjutant, a tall hook-nosed lady of seventeen, with dour disposition and a mind like a steel trap. Zech was hoping she was not looking up to Une in any way. He really was.

Right now Ms. Kushavilli was very politely trying to prod him into signing yet more documents. Zechs' experience told him that she will not go away unless he did what she thought he should be doing, or he found something else for her to be concerned with.

The idea that was currently making itself at home in his mind would probably manage to get rid of her. At least for a time, while she'd be away trying to figure out a way to drag him to Medical.

Zechs steepled his hands in front of his mouth in an attempt to hide his suddenly uncontrollable smirk.

"Ms. Kushavilli? I think this is a good time for a midday meal. Please arrange for it to be brought into the office." She really looked quite a bit like a startled fish with a mouth open in mid-nag. "And, please, inquire if Pilot Chang would like to share a meal with me."

He thought that Ms. Kushavilli was really a bit too polite and dutiful for her own good. As the door closed behind her, he briefly hoped that for his sake that would not be corrected any time soon.

=============================================================================

He really hadn't thought that Chang would accept his invitation. The L5 Pilot tended to be even less social than Heero Yuy, which was saying something. But he probably was as bored as Zechs himself.

Chang had taken a shower before showing up for the meal, but the oppressive heat was quickly making a mockery of his efforts, and his white shirt was already getting darker with perspiration, much as Zechs' own. The Lightning Count watched from the corner of his eye as the teenager consumed his meal with the same intensity he probably gave to more militant tasks. The grace of his movements was quite unsettlingly reminiscent of Treize.

Zechs bit his lip as he recognized his rising arousal. His current seat was not helping. When Noin had found out that an adjutant had been assigned to him, she had teased him mercilessly about the "privileges of rank" until Zechs lost his temper completely, and they'd christened this couch with conduct hardly becoming such high-ranking officers. He missed Noin almost as much as he missed Treize.

As Zechs was finishing his rather plain meal (the officers' fair mainly differing in that it came not on the plastic tray, but on actual plates, complete with metal cutlery), Zechs was idly musing about Chang's possible reaction to the Zechs' expression of carnal interest. He had no idea how badly Chang might react to a propostion. While he had strength and reach on the younger pilot, he'd still rather not put himself in a situation of having to defend himself. His hand-to-hand had never been as good as his piloting skills.

The silver mask was hot and heavy on his face. He could...

Zechs knew exactly what he looked like. The mask was not only there to protect Milliardo Peacecraft's identity. It was always difficult for people to believe that he was anything more than a pretty face. He realized during his cadet days that he would always have trouble with command if he had to first persuade people to ignore his appearance. Adulthood added some angularity to his features, but Noin still tended to call him "pretty boy" when she was trying to bait him. Would the young man in front of him be impressed, he wondered?

The meal was over, finally, and the nonsensical conversation that Chang have been supporting with ease of his upbringing was winding to the close as well. Zechs could feel something in the air now, almost an expectation. Who was he to wrestle with the Winds of Fate?

Chang was looking at his plate as Zechs took the mask off. His head felt lighter immediately, though exactly what his sweaty helmet hair might have looked like, he preferred not to speculate. The Gundam Pilot looked up at the unexpected sound and their eyes met. It felt different without the barrier of the mask, more honest. Zechs watched with barely concealed excitement as Chang put his tray away with the same spare and precise motions that attracted his attention before.

And then he was suddenly on his back on the couch with a smaller muscular body on top of him and bruising lips on his own. Sure hands were unbuttoning his shirt, skimming down his ribs, massaging his ass. 

He was being rather expertly dominated by a teenager. It was ridiculous. It was.... very hot.

A hand found his nipple. Fingers skimmed down the front of his uniform pants and then found their way inside. Lips traveled down his jaw line and a tongue touched a spot right under his ear, somehow too warm even in the ridiculous heat of the day. Zechs tried to take initiative, to do something, anything, but he kept getting distracted by Chang's touches. He seemed to remember having more control during that whole thing with Heero Yuy, but Yuy's hands were literally *tied* at the time.

Clothes seemed to have come off in no time at all, but Zechs felt even hotter than when he was in his full uniform. Both of them were slick with sweat -- Zechs' cock sliding easily around and around on the interesting topography on Chang's muscular stomach, while the boy returned the favor. Zechs decided to take pride in the fact that Chang came first. 

The air inside the office felt like a sauna and wasn't helping to cool him down. Chang's skin was flashed, and his dark eyes gleamed as he looked at Zechs, moved his attention down his prone body. Zechs' neck protested his position. The sofa really was not designed with someone of his height in mind. The silence was suddenly oppressive.

"Why, yes, I *am* a natural blond," Zechs heard himself murmur as he registered where exactly Chang was looking so intently. The boy snorted, before starting to adjust his clothing. That was probably a good idea. Kushavilli was bound to show up soon. No reason to scandalize subordinates.

Zechs still felt disoriented, as if he was piloting a suit and was suddenly caught in a hurricane. Maybe he was. He has been having difficulty telling "up" from "down" for a while now. He adjusted his own clothing and strained his ears in hopes hearing the thunder that will herald the end of this heat wave. There was nothing to hear.


End file.
